


an unwarranted visit

by wasted



Series: The Shenanigans of Apartment 14 [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Gen, damian is the masterchef
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 21:29:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12690570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasted/pseuds/wasted
Summary: When Alfred falls ill, Damian recruits Duke and Jason to bake cookies for him.





	an unwarranted visit

Jason opened the apartment’s door, peering around the wood. He saw no one, until he inclined his head a few degrees lower, and he met Damian’s gaze.

“Are you selling Girl Scout cookies?”

“Of course not,” Damian scoffed, stepping into the threshold. He scanned the room briefly, before decidedly marching towards Jason’s kitchen. “I’m here to _make_ cookies.”

“Excuse me?” Jason asked, closing the door and frowning as he followed the kid through his apartment. Damian began opening cupboards and rifling through Jason’s drawers, placing pots and pans onto the counter. Jason watched, feeling rather conscious about his lack of baking utensils. He wasn't much of a baker. Cooking, however, was a whole other story.

“Pennyworth is ill.” Damian informed him, turning his head towards Jason. “I wanted to make him feel better with a surprise. I had planned to ask Grayson for help, but he’s out of town. So here we are.”

“How'd you know _I_ wasn't out of town?”

“I didn't.” Damian said, examining the items in his fridge. He retrieved a carton of milk and peered at the expiration date, before making a snort of disgust. “I asked Thomas for your whereabouts.”

Jason took a seat at the island, watching Damian take out the necessary ingredients from his fridge. “Snitch,” he muttered.

Jason’s head spun. He’d been seeing black spots in his vision all morning; all because of the nasty fall he’d taken last night when he was on patrol. He needed to remind himself to never initiate fights on top of wet rooftops.

“He should be on his way here, now.” Damian said, peering down at his hand. “I sent him to the store whilst I prepared myself up here.”

“Who, Duke?” Jason questioned, examining his hands casually. Damian nodded in response. “Good. That fucker took my hoodie last Thursday and has been sending me ransom notes all week.”

Jason took a seat at the island, watching Damian take out the necessary ingredients from his fridge. He was rather overstocked, as going grocery shopping had become a sort of regular thing with Cass and Steph. “Damn,” he muttered, grabbing the milk Damian had discarded across from him and taking a gulp. “What's wrong with Dick’s apartment, demon?”

Damian peered over his shoulder, giving Jason an unimpressed look. “He grew up at _Wayne Manor_. The only working cooking utensil he has is a toaster.”

Right. Jason had been around Dick’s apartment a small amount of times, and had noted on his scarce cooking equipment.

“Do you have any flour?”

“Top shelf.” Jason answered, wiping milk from his mouth with his wrist.

Damian peered up at the top shelf to his right, and back at Jason. He then proceeded to climb onto the kitchen counter, with a determined look on his face.

“Hey, hey, calm down, kid.” Jason began, leaping from his seat to open the cupboard. “I’ve got it.”

Jason passed the bag of flour to Damian, who muttered a small “thank you,” before returning to his ingredients.

Although Jason would never admit it, Damian was probably the most tolerable out of his brothers, save for Duke. He watched him dart around the kitchen, preparing everything he’d need in advance to make the cookies. Despite him acting like a brat a lot of the time, Damian was a good kid, really.

“Did someone call for a chef?” Duke’s voice called, as the door slammed. He eventually appeared in the kitchen entrance, wearing Jason’s hoodie and holding a plastic shopping bag in his hand.

“Alright, hand over the hoodie, you thief.” Jason said in greeting, holding his hand out expectantly. Duke grinned, promptly unzipping it and tossing it to Jason.

“So, Alf’s ill, and we’re baking cookies for him.” Duke clarified, grabbing the open milk carton on the counter and drinking from it. He immediately scrunched his face up in disgust, which then turned into a scowl when he noted the expiration date on the side. Jason gave him a nonchalant shrug. “Seems simple enough,” he managed.

“Perhaps.” Damian shrugged, already cracking an egg into the large mixing bowl in front of him. He turned and took Duke’s plastic bag from his hands, and emptied it’s contents on the counter. “I don't really need either of your help. Todd is providing me with a kitchen, and you: extra ingredients.”

“Wow, I feel so honoured to be such a help.” Jason said, peering over Damian’s shoulder and at the mixture he was currently pouring into the pan. “Seems to be going well,” he commented, nodding, before quietly sliding the bag of flour closer to his body.

Damian watched him curiously, and Jason placed a finger over his lips, smirking. Jason grabbed a handful of flour in his fist, then swiftly spun around and threw the powder in an unexpecting Duke’s face.

Duke had had it coming ever since he’d taken his hoodie.

Duke flew backwards, his seat toppling hazardly. He spat, white spewing from his mouth. The air was thick with flour, as laughter also filled the room - Jason cackling breathlessly, doubled over, and Damian chortling and pointing at Duke’s shocked expression. He was covered in white from shoulders up, his mouth agape in alarm.

Immediately, Duke darted from his seat and lurched across the kitchen. He reached forward for the bag of flour, hissing a promise for revenge, until Damian snatched it from his grasp.

“Hey, think about this,” Jason began, his arms spread in surrender as Damian stood in the middle of the boys, with a mischievous smirk and his hand deep in the bag of flour.

Jason was aware of the mess now forming in the kitchen, _his_ kitchen, and considered the nightmare that would be left if Damian unleashed his wrath with the flour. If it was aimed at Duke, Jason thought he could live with it.

Duke pointed to Jason, taking several steps back from the commotion. “Do him! It's only fair.”

“Fair? That’s not fair at all.”

“How?”

“I’m unarmed!”

“So was I!”

“Be quiet, both of you,” Damian ordered, smugly grinning when both Jason and Duke snapped their mouths shut. He pulled his hand, covered in flour, from the bag and presented it to the two. “I will partake in this ridiculous battle you have engaged in, only to prove myself superior to both of you.”

“Exactly,” Duke nodded, still pointing to Jason. With each word, clouds of flour drifted from his upper body. “You flour him, and then you’d obviously be better than him, _and_ me.”

“You fool. I already am.”

“Yes, _obviously_ . So you could just throw that at Duke, and then he’d look _really_ dumb.” Jason encouraged, his arms outstretched as if presenting Duke to Damian as a gift.

Damian paused, considering.

Then, he flew into the air.

Damian kicked off the open drawer and vaulted above Duke and Jason. A shower of white fell down upon them both, and Jason spluttered out milky spit all over his kitchen counter.

“Do you always have to be so extra?” Duke exclaimed, now covered in double the flour.

“Hmm,” Damian mused, his lower lip pressed outwards as he considered the two with mild interest. “Do I win?”

“I mean,” Jason shrugged, walking over to his sink to drink from the faucet, his entire face covered in white. “I guess,” he managed, gargled by the water running out his mouth.

“Could you clean up all this mess?” Damian asked, _tsk_ -ing as turned up his nose as he ran his finger along the counter, wiping away layers of flour. “It’s contaminating my cookies.”

“But you’re the one who - “ Duke began, but Jason prodded him in the shoulder.

“Yeah, whatever. I’ll clean it up later,” he shrugged.

* * *

“Aren’t your cookies done yet?” Duke asked, peering up from his screen as he glanced at the timer. It was slowly turning, almost nearing its finishing point.

“The recipe said it should take twelve minutes.” Damian said on the floor, his legs crossed with a book in his lap. He was sitting in front of the oven, to ‘monitor the baking of the cookies.’

“What recipe?” Jason asked. “I haven’t seen you read one word of anything since you got here.”

“I memorised it before I left,” Damian answered, consciously clenching his hand shut which had all the ingredients and their measurements written on.

The timer dinged. Damian leapt to attention and opened the oven. After a minute of clattering and Damian burning his hands, biting his tongue to hide the pain, and then sucking on the wounds, the cookies were ready, lined perfectly on their tray.

Duke extended out his hand to grab one, but Damian struck it, lightning fast, and shoved it away from his cookies. “They’re not for _you_ ,” he spat, bracing both of his arms over the cookies to shield them from both Jason and Duke. “They are too hot, anyway. You would have burnt your mouth.”

“It would’ve been worth it,” Duke grumbled, nursing his hand.

“What is Alf even sick with?” Jason questioned, staring down at the lines of cookies.

Damian hesitated, his lips parted in thought. “Um. The cold,” he said. He rubbed at his nose. “I think I may have caught it too.”

“ _Gross_.” Jason sneered.

Damian clicked his tongue, trailing a finger around the edge of one his cookies, before plucking it up and shoving it into his mouth. “I suppose,” he said between chews, smirking as the two watched him with envy, “you two could atleast try a cookie. To prove that they taste excellent.”

Jason and Duke grabbed one each without any hesitation.

“Your cookies taste weird,” Jason informed Damian.

He shrugged. “Thomas, you must accompany me home now.” Damian told Duke, gathering the cookies into a container from one of Jason’s cupboards.

“Um, okay.” Duke replied, seeing no point in arguing with him. “I’ll be back down in a sec, you just make your way down.”

Damian left, already beginning to open his box of cookies whilst licking his lips.

Jason frowned, already beginning to clear away the pots and pans Damian had removed in order to get what he needed. “What do you want, Duke? I’m not giving you my hoodie.”

“Yeah, I know. I just wanted to tell you.” Duke began, hesitantly. “Alf isn’t ill.”

Jason stopped, holding a spoon in his hand. He felt a chill run up his spine as he watched Duke’s face, searching for any clues. “Is he okay?”

“Yes, he’s fine. That’s the thing. Alfred’s completely okay.”

“Then why the fuck did you guys come and bake cookies in my kitchen?” Jason asked, his frown deepening.

“Damian said he saw you fall last night. But he didn’t see you land, and he said, that by the time he got down to where you _should’ve_ landed, you were gone.” Duke explained. “So he wanted to come here. Y’know, to check on you.”

“Well,” Jason said, licking his lips, processing the information. Jason wasn’t sure whether or not he was happy that the people he cared about felt the need to make excuses to make sure he was alright. “He didn’t need to,”

“Stop being so ungrateful,” Duke scolded, shaking his head. “You’re alright, aren’t you? We just wanted to make sure.”

Jason inhaled through his nose. He nodded. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

Duke returned the nod - a slight tip of his chin - and then he turned to leave. “Don’t you dare tell Damian I told you that,” he ordered, still walking towards the door.

Jason looked down at his bare feet, exhaling deeply. “Thanks.” Jason called. “Thanks for both of you, like, checking I wasn’t dead, or whatever.”

Duke turned as he held the door open, standing in Jason’s doorway. “Anytime, man.”


End file.
